The Foreigner amongst Them

In her eyes, Arenard was like a fairytale.

Mountains surrounded them, covered in flourishing conifers that reached to the clouds. The farthest and tallest reminded her of home with their snowy peaks – and as her eyes traveled straight up rather than afar, she saw the ones of the Fliers’. A vast city of wooden hubs built around the canopy, with ledges set for landing, or bridges for areas tucked in the midst of leaves. Rising from the forest floor, spiraling staircases wrapped around trees – for enchanted foreigners, like Isolde.

“W-What’s that!?” Isolde asked in a shriek, clutching onto Madigan’s arm. “Are we under attack?”

The noise was like a great stampede of hooves, or sharp claps of repetitive thunder. Madigan muttered something and yanked himself loose. “Oh, come on. You can’t be serious, right? Just how sheltered were you?”

They stopped at the source – a rushing gush of water, pouring down from a cliff and into a wide stream. Isolde gasped, raising her folded fingers to her chest. Madigan rolled his eyes and continued muttering.

“Oh, wow. I’ve only heard of these before… It’s a waterfall, isn’t it?”

“Mhm…”

“It’s – it’s beautiful.”

“Uuuhuh… Anyway, brat,” he opened up his big palm, extending it to her, “we’re here now, so it’s time to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Right, right. Of course.”

Isolde reached into the almost empty backpack and took out the paper – immediately, it was seized from her. She was startled as Madigan cackled loudly and threw up a triumphant fist. The first time she ever saw him not look like he wanted to kill the world and then himself.

“Y-yay?” Isolde tried to celebrate, not knowing what for.

Smirking, Madigan walked to the stairs with his chin held high. He probably would’ve flown, if his wing had recovered from the anomaly’s attack. Isolde moved along behind him, but as he came to an abrupt stop, she budged into his back.

“Why are you following me? I gave you what you wanted, you gave me what I wanted.”

“Oh, um – that is true… Then, you’re suggesting we go our separate ways now, aren’t you?”

“Except it’s not a suggestion,” he replied flatly, continuing up the stairs. “See ya, brat. Try not to annoy anybody.”

Isolde didn’t see it coming, yet it was predictable from a mile away. In a scenario where a bond should’ve been inevitable, he was surprisingly difficult to get close to, if not impossible. All he’d do was grumble, boss her around, or crave booze. Several times did she wish she got a different escort.

But she didn’t forget how she was shielded in his wings, or that he was moved by Gwendolyn’s tears, even if he refused to admit it. There was something under the surface, but as he disappeared into the trees, she felt she’d never discover it. Besides, that wasn’t her goal. What she was really after was bigger.

Above, her eyes darted to various spots in the elaborate complex. Not being used to seeing so many new things at once, it was overwhelming. Shops hung by ropes, manned pulleys lifted resources from the ground level, multi-floored buildings with perches on each – most of all, Fliers everywhere. Now, it was Arenard, seeing its own natives abound shouldn’t be notable… But as she was told by her parents, the region was normally uncrowded, with Fliers constantly traveling the outer Nexus. Not anymore.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a Flier yelled to another.

“I told you, we’re all out— no, I don’t know when we’re going to restock, ask the useless farmers! Get out of my store already!”

“Just give me a break, man! I can’t stay anywhere else!”

It seemed even they were not receptive to the change.

Isolde swallowed down the nervousness. “It’s not like I haven’t dealt with anything worse,” she said to herself, stepping further into the city. She instantly regretted it as the bridge swayed and wobbled. “Whoa, whoa!” she clutched the rails, “Okay, I’m good… Everything’s fine, totally fine…”

What she first needed was to find a port, a place Fliers “checked into” back from their journeys, and all records were kept. That’s where she could locate a “Jaswyn,” the last person she had known to be with her parents – that is, if they even made it to Arenard, but she convinced herself to believe that with utmost certainty.

“Blue roof with a flag, blue roof with a flag…”

There was one in the far distance, multiple bridges away. Faintly smiling, she moved onward – then her legs were weak, and her knees buckled. All those days spent trying to live, it was no wonder the fatigue finally caught up. She could’ve pushed herself, but… It wasn’t like she wanted a repeat of how drained she was during that stormy night.

As luck had it, a nearby building that said “Inn” was nearby. Inside was just as busy as out. Isolde pushed her way through the guests, some of whom gave her dirty looks. At the front desk, a woman – presumably the owner – snatched the coin jar away from Isolde, who hadn’t even touched it. Her body language was guarded as she eyed her cautiously, but seeing Isolde’s meekness, she seemed to ease.

“You’re here for a room, I suppose?” the owner questioned after a long sigh.

“Yes… Please?”

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m only allowing in Fliers for a while.”

Isolde frowned. The policy confused her, but she decided against pushing it. “I see – do you at least know of somewhere else I can go?”

“Afraid the other places are doing the same. If you haven’t noticed, we’re having a bit of an overpopulation problem… Folks don’t have anywhere to lie their heads at night. I’m a lucky one,” she clicked her tongue and flattened her dress, “Arenard just wasn’t built for this many people at once.”

Curiosity getting the best of her, Isolde asked, “I don’t understand, what about your houses?”

She gave her a skeptical look then chuckled, like the answer was obvious. “Us Fliers don’t have permanent housing, we rotate them. Most of us are gone for months at a time, so our Elders agreed long ago to conserve land and wood.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“You’re fine. But alas, there’s not much I can do for you. Seems unfair to give space to outsiders when the citizens are suffering – at least, that’s the sentiment,” she leaned and whispered the last words, “Between you and me, I tried to give a room to a Reaper, but everyone had a fit. I have to adapt, you get me?”

Nodding, she said, “It’s alright, miss. I don’t want to cause you or your inn any trouble,” she looked down at her weak legs, “I’ll just – figure something out.”

Eyelids heavy, Isolde turned to leave – but before she was able, the owner gave her a short tap on the shoulder, gaining back her attention. Her voice still hushed, she said, “By the way, as a piece of advice… I wouldn’t be showing off those garments. Not around here.”

She pointed to the Showyth cloak and coat laid over Isolde’s shoulder – taken off due to the summer heat.

“Huh? What’s wrong with my clothes—” her face suddenly flushed with embarrassment. She was pretty sweaty in them as the climate got warmer, could’ve left an odor…

“It makes people… Get the wrong idea. Me included, and I apologize. With the ruckus some Weavers have been starting lately, it’s easy to make assumptions.”

A gauge of Isolde’s flabbergasted reaction told otherwise.

“Odd… You must’ve been under a rock these past weeks, but now you know. So, unless you don’t mind people being weird around you, I wouldn’t make it obvious you’re a Weaver.”

She didn’t know how to take her words. What was she, a criminal? Just how much happened while she was gone? Her thoughts went to Gwendolyn and Olga – were they okay?

“Thank you, miss. For telling me. Things sure have… Changed.”

Her tone was sad. When she headed to exit again, she only looked even more pitiful as her legs gave up a second time. The owner flew over and carefully helped her stand.

“Goodness, are you alright?”

“Heh, it’s a long story.”

She looked concerned. After a brief look around the room, she said, “Scratch what I said earlier. You wait in that chair until I close up, alright?”

“Oh – no, no. I couldn’t possibly be a burden to you.”

“You won’t. I’ll take you to my home— ah-ah, no buts!”

Desperate to rest somewhere, Isolde didn’t decline. She flopped in the seat, some hostile stares going from her to the innkeeper, but nothing further.

So much for a first away from home.